“Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little

demon.”

Emily Dickinson

Dead Suffering

Story and Art by

John B Badd

Story ©2012/ Art ©2014 - Badd Words LLC

I could not keep myself from

glancing at his shackled wrist

and orange prison jumper. I

knew it was rude, but this was

my first time talking to a death

row inmate; he was not the type

of dead person I usually spoke to.

But I was already there, so I guess I would hear him out.

He eyeballed Suzan and me when the guard led us into the

room, then he looked down at his hands and started

rubbing them together. Suzan was his lawyer. But this visit

was not about mundane laws. That is why I was there.

He glanced back up at us before breaking the silence. "My

thought after waking up with a wet face was that the roof

was leakin'. I mean we had just bought the house, you

know. I start cursing the real estate man. I rolls over and

reach for Erin but she ain't there. So I reach for the light."

He shakes his head and stares at the ceiling. "When I look

up there she is. It was like that scene in Nightmare on Elm

Street where Johnny Depp's girl gets killed—"

"That wasn't Johnny Depp's girl," I said.

"Yeah it was. That was his first movie."

"I know it was his first movie but he was dating Nancy;

she lived. You are thinking of—ouch." Suzan twisted the

flesh on my side.

"Please let Mister Warner finish his story," she said as if I

had missed her painful hint.

"Continue Collin. It is okay if I call you Collin, isn't it?" I

asked.

"Yeah, whatever," he continued.

"So I look up and—man it was

freakin' horrible. Erin was stuck

to the ceiling just like that Nancy

chick." (I decided not to correct

him). "So's I stand up on the bed

and I'm flippin' out hard.

I just keep saying her name over and over. Then I hear the

laughing.

I couldn't take it. I snatched her down off the ceiling. The

blood it was…." He breathed deep. "I carried her to the

neighbors. It was too late. Next thing I know I'm on state

borrowed time. No one believed me. I never expected 'em

too. That was two years ago today you know."

I waited a few seconds to make sure he was finished, then

responded, "I know there are things that the courts will

not accept. Even if I find whatever murdered your wife no

one is going to believe it." I stood and readied myself to

leave. "I am sorry Collin but I don't think I can help you."

"Help me!" He pounded his fist into the table as he tried

to rise from the chair.

His chains yanked him back into his seat with a clank. He

lurched forward in defiance. "I didn't call ya' here to help

me mister. I want whatever that thing was that killed my

wife to suffer just like she suffered. I want you to find that

freakin' thing and send it straight to hell."

I grinned. "Well Collin, I'll help you with that."

Suzan drove me out to Collin's old farm-house as I

pondered his predicament. Well it wasn't his anymore,

the state owned it now. Either death row inmates do not

get to own property or they took it for back taxes. I

thought about asking Suzan, but then it slipped my mind.

Did I mention Suzan was my lover? Yep that sexy

attorney was my gal. She also helped my on some of my

cases. I guess she was my partner. And since that last

DUI, my chauffeur. I didn't know why she put up with

me, and I was not about to ask. I should, but why ruin a

good thing.

But about Collin's situation. I wasn't exactly honest with

him back at the clink about not being able to help him. I

did some work for the governor awhile back. A ghost of

one of the previous governors was wandering the halls of

the mansion and scaring the crap out of the new First

Lady. I discovered that shellfish poison from his chief

adviser caused his heart attack. Then I sent him on his

way satisfied that the truth was known. They credited the

find to unnamed historians and some CSI work done on

the exhumed corpse. But me and the Gov, we both know

the truth. So if it turned out this walking-dead-man was

hanging level, that some other-worldly entity snuffed his

wife, then I was pretty sure I might get him a stay-of-

execution. Maybe even a full pardon. But I did not want

to get his hopes up. Plus in all my years of talking to

spirits, I never seen one pull a Freddy Kruger body-toss.

Most ghost were little more than stains in the fabric of

reality. They were lucky if they could muster the strength

to interact with a normal human, let alone slice a woman

up and hang her like that. Yep, that was Erin's official

cause of death. To be specific her

throat was slit; I'm pretty sure that's

what ended her life. Then out came

her heart; they never found it. They

did find her though. I started having

second thoughts about this outing.

"Suzan," I said as I turned down the radio, "I think you

should sit this one out."

"And why in the world would I want to do that?"

"Because, I have a bad feeling about this. You can just stay

in the car while—"

"I am not staying in the car mister." She had that stern

courtroom look that let me know she was about to

convince me she was right even though I knew she

wasn't. "This is my case and—"

"Listen here Suzan! If your client is straight, then there is

something in that house that I don't know how to deal—"

She clenched her jaw, eyes stabbed me. I lowered my

voice a few decibels. "I do not want you to get hurt. If

some kind of spirit killed his wife then it is too dangerous.

I can't worry about keeping you safe and fighting it. So

you are going to wait here and I am going to go inside

and figure out what the hell is going on."

She started laughing.

"What is so funny?"

"In the seven months we have been dating I think that is

the most thoughtful, selfless thing you have said to me."

"Good," I said. "Then it's settled"

She punched me hard in the arm. I smiled. We drove the

rest of the way in silence.

We turned onto the gravel road that led to the house.

Suzan found it easier than I would have in the dark. She

must have remembered the way from working the case.

The grass was overgrown but it was dying off as winter

approached. There were busted windows; the work of

kids who were too afraid to get any closer than rock

tossing distance from the scary old place. Suzan gave me

the keys. I took the large flashlight from the trunk. I did

not need all that electronic equipment you see on those

ghost hunting television programs. I’ve had that

equipment built in from birth.

I kissed Suzan hard. "Wait here. Please." I started towards

the house. Before I

made it to the door the

hair on my arms stood

up. There was

definitely supernatural

energy floating

around. Part of me

wished I had time to

call back-up. But this

was the anniversary of

the killing, and spirits

like their cycles. The door slid open with a squeal, the

smell of dust and mildew overtook me. I sneezed a couple

times as my sinuses adapted to the thick air.

It was dark. What do you expect at 1:50 A.M. in a place

without electricity? At least my rectangular flashlight lit

everything in its beam. The rest of my body hair came to

attention. I tasted the energy. My doubts about Collin's

story faded faster than an inspired idea.

"No," a woman whispered, "leave this place."

I turned left towards her voice. An ethereal figure faded

from a doorway as my light struck it. I cursed myself for

making a rookie mistake and aimed the light towards the

floor hoping she would return. She did not.

I went through the opening and found myself in the

kitchen. Remnants of the investigation, including police

evidence markers, lay about the room. I noticed a C

sitting near an empty wooden knife holder. An A sat on

the floor in front of the refrigerator atop a large brown

stain I recognized to well. I unsheathed my knife and

shaved some dry blood from the floor.

"Erin show yourself to me." I blew the blood into the air.

Her spirit manifested in front of me. She was beautiful in

a translucent sort of way. "Collin sent me here. I'm

looking for the monster that took your life. I will help you

find peace."

"There is a wicked spirit here, but it did not take my life,"

she said in a moaning whisper. "My death was its

gateway."

"Who killed you," I asked.

"You must leave."

I heard the front door squeal open. I hurried in there with

my knife at the ready. It was Suzan. "I thought we agreed

you would stay with the car,” I yelled as I lowered my

blade. “It isn't safe here."

I noticed she held a black pistol in her hands. When did

she get a gun?

The spirit spoke, "That is the one who murdered me.”

Suzan could not hear or see the ghost.

"Um, Suzan, how did you get assigned to Collin's case?"

"I volunteered," she said bringing the revolver up towards

my head.

"So now what? Are you going to kill me as part of some

sick ritual?"

She laughed. "No, we need you alive."

"We who?"

Blackness oozed from the walls down to the ground. It

pulled itself up into the form of a man beside Suzan. I

reached for the pouch at my side which held my arcane

weapons.

"Don't even think about it," Suzan said.

"Why?"

It was the shadow that answered in a deep, echoing voice,

"I need a vessel strong enough to hold me. The husband

was too weak. But he brought us to you."

I lost focus; too many thoughts filled my head. How I met

Suzan at that bar; I had never seen her there before. She

bought me drinks whenever we went out. When I got the

DUI she was nice enough to drive me around town. What

kind of attorney had time to do that? And then there was

the offhand way she mentioned this case. I bit the bait.

I brought the light up into her eyes and darted to the side

flinging the knife at her head.

It missed. She did not fire the

gun, she could not risk killing

me. I reached for the herbs

and blessed water in my belt

pouch, cold tentacles yanked

my arms outward.

I moved through the air. I fought for control of my limbs.

The darkness was like a

giant squid holding me.

Black spurs pressed against

my clenched lips. I held

them tight but they filled my

nostrils, I opened my mouth

to breathe and it entered. It

tasted rancid, my gag reflex

kicked in but there was

nowhere to vomit. I felt it

entering my mind. I had to act fast. I let my body go.

…

The man dressed like a fortune-telling woman sat across

the table staring at me with wide eyes. He rubbed his

crystal balls out of habit and took a deep breath. "Why are

you telling me this?"

"Because you are the first person I found who can hear

me."

Outside the tent children yelled and carnival music filled

the air. This guy used his talents to pry into customers

minds and empty their wallets instead of helping people

with supernatural problems. Maybe he was a smarter

man that I.

"So what do expect me to do," he asked.

"I want you the help me find that lying lawyer and that

freaking thing that stole my body and send them both to

hell."

He held out his hands and shrugged. "I am sorry ghost,

but I just can't help you."

Yep, he was definitely a smarter man than I.

About the Author

John B Badd likes playing with words. Sometimes

those words work magic, and they can transport

you to a strange new world. John also dabbles

art.

http://www.JohnBBadd.com